The Orphan
by Scribe1270
Summary: Voldemort is dead but there are still new victims to consider
1. Default Chapter

I got the idea for the start of this one from a dream of all things.  
  
Chapter 1  
  
Harry had to laugh at himself. Here he was almost 2 decades out of school and still nervous about a meeting with his old headmaster. He shook his head in self deprecation. Voldemort was long dead and the deatheaters ranks were scattered to the four winds. There wasn't anything for him to worry about, was there?  
His thoughts were interrupted by the older wizards return.  
  
"I'm sorry to have kept you waiting Harry, but the Weasley brothers are living up to their uncle's reputations again."  
  
Harry didn't find that hard to believe at all. Ron and Hermione's two boys were so much like their two uncles Fred and George that it was almost uncanny. How his two friends kept the two in check when they were at home he had no clue. "It's quite alright headmaster. What was it you needed to talk to me about?"  
  
"Well Harry I'm sure you're aware that Lucious Malfoy, his wife, and the parents of young Draco's wife all. died in the war against Voldemort. Harry nodded, of course he knew. Harry had been there when Lucious and Narcissa died and Draco had blamed him for the elder Malfoy's death ever since.  
  
"The thing is Harry that young Mr. Malfoy took a neutral position during the war. That is he didn't side with Voldemort, but neither did he stand with the light. As a result he was shunned by most of wizarding society and hated by the rest."  
  
"Was?"  
  
"Last night some of Lucious's old deatheater friends paid Malfoy manor a visit." As head of the Order of the Phoenix during the war Dumbledore had apperated to the manor as soon as he'd heard of the attack. What he'd seen the moment he walked through the door was something he'd hoped never to see again. The deatheaters had used the killing curse on both Draco and Pansy, but not until they'd had their sport. He shivered at the memory.  
  
"Headmaster?"  
  
"Hmmm. Oh, sorry Harry. As I was saying the deatheaters paid a visit to Malfoy manor. Draco and his wife are dead. By good fortune their son is attending school here at Hogwarts."  
  
"I see. Has he been told?"  
  
"Yes. Therein lies the problem. He knows that his parents are gone, but, well come with me."  
  
It took them several minutes of walking to reach the dungeons. "Draco's son must have been sorted into Slytherin," Harry thought to himself, "but that didn't surprise him. Nor did the scowl on professor Snape's face when they entered the potion master's office.  
  
"Albus."  
  
"Severus please save your tirade for another day. We've already had this discussion. Where is the boy?" Harry found himself wondering what the old headmaster was talking about.  
  
"In his dormatory where else."  
  
"Fine. Will you lead us there please."  
  
"Very well. Though I don't know what good it will do."  
  
Snape led them from his office and into the Slytherin dorms. Harry couldn't believe his eyes. Sitting all alone in a chair near the fire was a young boy of about 11 years of age who looked so much like Draco that Harry wondered for a minute of someone had used a time turner without his knowledge. As he got closer Harry realized that there was one difference between this boy and the Malfoy he'd known at school. The eyes. They were the same color as Draco's but they were almost blank as if they were shop windows and the owner had decided to close up shop early.  
  
Dumbledore motioned for him to follow and they stepped outside the dormatory. "Well Harry now you see what I was refering to. The healers at St. Mungo's think it's shock, but I think it goes much deeper than that. Christopher Malfoy's life has been torn to pieces and he's going to need help to put it back together again."  
  
"Excuse me headmaster, but what does that have to do with me?"  
  
"Well Harry it's quite simple. I'm sure that sending him to St. Mungo's isn't the solution, and Poppy isn't up to treating this sort of problem so I was wondering if you might be able to take the boy in for a while."  
  
"But why me? I don't know anything about....."  
  
"Harry you are an orphan, and now so is he. You've been where he has yet to go. Who better to give him the help he needs."  
  
Harry sighed. He just knew he'd live to regret it but.."Fine professor I'll do it." 


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2  
  
Harry sat in front of his fire thinking. It had been almost a week since he'd taken Malfoy's son in and he was running out of ideas about how to reach the boy. He'd tried everything he could think of in an attempt to get past the boy's outer shell and failed miserably. It was ironic in a way. Here he was, the saviour of the entire wizarding world, the one who had vanquished Voldemort once and for all and he couldn't even get through to a little boy who was obviously in great emotional pain. Rising from his chair he went round the house, made sure that everything was locked up for the night, and that the protective wards were properly set before heading upstairs to bed. He was just passing by Christopher's room when he heard it. The sound of sobbing. He felt his heart ache for the young boy, and without thinking he gently opened the door and entered the room. The boy was lying on the bed on his right side, facing away from the door. By moonlight Harry could see the small body was wracked with the force of barely concealed tears. He remembered how aloof Draco had always been, never showing his emotions. Obviously Malfoy's weren't supposed to cry. Reaching the bedside Harry scooped the small boy up in his arms before sitting in a chair by the bed. The boy continued to sob, apparently unaware that he was being held. Harry began to gently stroke the boy's back while cooing words of comfort. He felt the boy go rigid in his arms and looked down into a pair of puffy, tear stained, silvery grey eyes that seemed to be reguarding him with curiosity. Harry smiled at his young charge who suddenly broke into a fresh burst of tears. Harry continued to hold the boy as he released his pent up grief.  
  
The early morning sun broke through the window and fell on Harry's face. He opened his eyes. a feeling of warmth and weight drew the attention of his sleep fogged mind and he looked down at his lap. Why was young Malfoy in his lap? Then he remembered. He'd heard the boy sobbing and had felt compelled to offer what comfort he could. Apparently he'd fallen asleep holding the boy. Gently, trying not to waken him, Harry lifted the boy from his lap and placed him back on the bed, and quietly left the room to start preparing their breakfast. 


	3. Chapter 3

Note: with the exception of Christopher I don't own the characters. They all belong to J.K. Rowling.  
  
The Orphan: Chapter 3  
  
Harry had just started setting the table when his guest made his way into the dining room. The effect was uncanny. The boy was perfectly dressed and his blonde hair was slicked back in a perfect imitation of the boy that Harry had gone to school with many years before.  
  
"Good morning Christopher. Sleep well?"  
  
He didn't know what kind of response he'd expected but what he got was a look of pure hate that seemed to flow in waves from his young guest's eyes. 'If looks could kill,' thought Harry to himself, 'I'd probably be dead right now.' He shook the feeling off. This wasn't Draco, this was a young boy who had had his whole life torn to shreds, he was probably angry at the whole world at present.  
  
"I slept fine, sir."  
  
Harry noted the emphasis on sir, but decided to let it pass. Obviously his young charge had a lot of repressed anger to deal with, not that he'd expected anything different. Losing your parents was a very traumatizing thing after all. He reflected on his own past life. Nobody had been there to comfort him when he'd lost his own parents, but at least young Malfoy wouldn't have to face things alone. The old phrase time heals all wounds wasn't completly false, just misleading. Time couldn't actually heal a loss like this one, but in time, and with a lot of patience on Harry's part, the pain would lose some of it's intensity. He'd promised Dumbledore that he'd do what he could for the boy and he was determined to keep his word. Besides if there was one thing he had in abundance it was patience.  
  
"Good. Why don't you set the table while I finish making us some breakfast." He turned back to the stove and so missed the glare that the boy gave him before turning to the task at hand. 


End file.
